First Date
by MontanaSlim
Summary: A quick exploration of how Walt and Vic's first date might evolve.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. Craig Johnson has created some amazing characters. The books are fun to read, and it has been such a treat to see the characters adapted for TV. I have greatly enjoyed reading the stories published on this site and was inspired to write one, which is something I haven't done in a long time. Feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Vic removed her hat and gloves and shrugged off her duty jacket, sinking heavily into her chair. She shivered despite the warmth of the office and rubbed her hands together. The day had been long and cold, and the darkness of the evening matched her mood. It was a little past quitting time, but the thought of going home to an empty house was even less appealing than the prospect of filling out the day's paperwork. Sean had left several months back, and the fact that he hadn't taken much with him made it all the worse. It was as if nothing had changed, and yet, even long before he'd gone, so much had already been different. So she picked up her pen with a sigh and turned her attention to the reports on her desk.

"How'd it go?"

She hadn't heard him come out of his office and jumped at the sound of his voice. Walt had heard the call come in earlier that afternoon, multi-vehicle accident on a quiet but apparently icy stretch of road, but he'd been busy interviewing a robbery suspect. Branch was still on suspension, and Ferg was on another call, so Vic had handled it alone.

"Sorry – didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright." She picked up her hockey puck and took a deep breath before answering. "It was messy. Head on collision. The driver in the eastbound lane hit a patch of ice and lost control. The vehicles are totaled and the drivers sustained serious injuries. They'll be spending some quality time at Durant Memorial." It had been the second accident of the day and the fourth that week, so she added, "Fucking Wyoming winter. And the four wheel drive on my truck seems to have stopped working, so I slipped and skidded all the way back here."

Walt put his hand on the back of her chair, his fingers absently brushing Vic's shoulder as he stepped behind her to look out the window. It had been snowing all day and showed no signs of letting up. He stepped back and leaned on the edge of the desk, arms crossed, and studied his deputy. He had allowed himself this luxury more and more frequently of late, and if Vic had noticed, she hadn't said anything. He and Vic had always worked well together. They had shared an excellent professional partnership right from the start. But lately it seemed like something more. If he was being truthful, it had felt like something more for far longer than just "lately" but he had tried so hard to bury those feelings. She had been married. It wasn't right. Looking at her now, though, seeing the dark circles that rimmed her eyes and reading her tired expression as she shifted her gaze back to his, he wanted to pull her into a long embrace and then spend the rest of the evening helping her rest and relax and possibly even explore just what "more" there might be.

Vic had known for some time that her feelings for Walt had shifted from friendly admiration and mutual respect to a deeper sense of companionship. It hadn't helped that things between Sean and her had been difficult before they even arrived in Wyoming. It wasn't lost on her that Walt was a ruggedly handsome man, and the quiet glances they shared, the silent understandings, made her wonder if he felt it too. She felt his hand brush against her when he moved to the window, silently enjoying even just the slightest touch, and she had noticed the small grin that flickered on the corner of his mouth when she had cursed out the weather. Seeing him smile, if only briefly, made her feel lighter. Absently turning the hockey puck in her hands, she met his gaze and was momentarily lost in the depth of his eyes when he spoke.

"Let me buy you dinner. Ferg's on duty tonight, and you can write those reports tomorrow."

Stilling her restless hands, she raised an eyebrow and took a chance. "Sheriff ... Are you asking me out on a date?"

He stood, extending his hand to help her up, and grinned. "Is that a yes?"

"Anything to get out of a little paperwork at the end of a long week." She let him help her to her feet, absently registering the warmth of his hand and how good it felt. She'd only been divorced for several months, but things between her and Sean had been cold and contentious for far longer, and their relationship had long lacked for simple, tender, affectionate gestures.

"Let's drop your truck at Ray's on our way out – have him take a look at the four wheel drive. We can take the Bronco and I'll drop you off at home after we eat."

Nodding in agreement, she grabbed her hat and gloves, pulled on her coat, and headed for the door.

 **xxxxx**

The drive to the Red Pony had been a bit slow due to the storm, but Vic hadn't minded the ride or the companionable silence. During the first few months she had worked with Walt, his prolonged silences had made her uneasy, but she had learned to read him and the quiet lack of conversation had become familiar, even comforting. Tired as she was, she allowed herself to relax, leaning back into the seat and closing her eyes.

Walt was trying to keep his eyes on the road and drive safely in the snow, but his attention wandered more than once across the cab to his deputy, unusually quiet in the seat next to him. Emboldened by their playful banter at the office, he reached over and softly took hold of her hand, sliding his fingers under hers and gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against her knuckles.

She opened her eyes at his touch. "So this _is_ a date."

"Yep." Eyes on the road, he issued his trademark reply, spoken with the confidence of a man beginning to realize that he hadn't misread this signs, although he still lacked the certainty to dare say anything more. Something between them had changed, and he was happy that Vic seemed to be on the same page. Walt's heart had taken a beating after Martha's death and he had seriously doubted its recovery on more than one occasion.

The parking lot was mostly empty when they arrived, and Walt was glad. He wasn't one for crowds or noise, and he genuinely wanted to share a relaxing evening with Vic. She had been through a lot and he had noticed that her usual feistiness had declined, replaced with more somber, almost resigned behavior at times. It was out of character, and he wanted to draw her back. Walt would never admit to it outside of his own thoughts, but he missed Feisty Vic. There were a few patrons seated at the bar, and rather than taking up their usual spots he guided Vic to a small table near the fire place, hoping the heat from the flames might reflect the steadily growing warmth of his feelings for her.

Henry Standing Bear came over with a wide and welcoming smile and a briefly quizzical glance aimed towards Walt. He had seen Walt help Vic remove her jacket and pull out a chair for her when they sat down. Henry knew Walt to be a gentleman, but to see this behavior directed towards his Deputy, and have her accept the gesture without throwing a punch accompanied by a litany of curse words, especially while in uniform, was unusual. He had always suspected an attraction between them and had been less than subtle in mentioning it to Walt from time to time. A gruff denial was the best he usually got in response.

"Hello, Walt. Hello, Vic. To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine wintry evening?"

Ever the competent observer, Vic had noticed Henry's glance and was now staring at Walt with a bemused expression of her own. Would he admit they were on a date? He'd been uncharacteristically bold this evening, asking her out and holding her hand, and as much as she was enjoying it and didn't want it to stop, she was always amused at how quickly Henry could rattle the otherwise unflappable Sheriff.

Walt hesitated to reply, and Henry jumped right in with a quiet and teasing intonation, "Is this a date?"

Walt felt his neck begin to flush and quickly countered, "Could we get a couple beers and the cheeseburger special for me," he paused, looking at Vic. She nodded, and he continued, "same for Vic."

"Coming right up."

"Thanks Henry."

Henry left to place their order and Walt drummed his fingers nervously on the table, looking at the flames dancing and twisting around the burning logs in the fireplace, unsure of what to say or do next. He was momentarily startled as he felt Vic's boot rub gently against his beneath the table. He looked at her with a questioning glance, the firelight illuminating her tough but delicate features. She was so beautiful, and he desperately wanted to tell her but couldn't find the words.

"It's OK, Cowboy. I'm nervous too." She smiled at him, "Let's just be us. It has worked well enough so far."

Relieved, he took a deep breath and smiled back. Henry returned with their beers and threw Vic a quick wink before heading back to the kitchen. She laughed. Not one for expressive shows of sentimentality, but feeling better than she had in weeks, she raised her glass, "To warm fires and Wyoming winters." Walt raised his glass and clinked it gently against hers, "To close friends on a first date."


	2. Chapter 2

**First Date - Chapter 2**

Author's note: Thanks so much for all the reviews! Continuity alert, Chapter 1 ended with Vic and Walt sharing a toast with beer served in glasses. Chapter 2 refers to longnecks. Longnecks just worked better. Also, one reviewer noted that the way this story is written it shifts perspective frequently. Apologies if this is confusing or distracting. Hope you enjoy Chapter 2! It took a little while to write and rewrite, because nothing (and yet everything) is simple with these two.

* * *

Vic tilted the longneck bottle and took a long draw as she leaned back in her chair. She looked across the table at Walt and thought about what he'd said. Close friends on a first date. She recalled a long list of first dates. When was the last time she'd been on a first date with someone she considered a close friend? Nothing and no one came to mind. She banished the list, shifted her gaze to the fire, and relaxed into the the simple intimacy of just being with Walt. But her thoughts were restless. How had she come to be sitting here, in this bar, with this man, at this moment? She was startled by the realization that, perhaps, she never wanted this to change. She was startled by how comfortable she was with the idea that maybe she loved him – is this what it felt like? Fuck, what would that mean? She took a deep breath and another long drink, keeping her eyes on the fire.

Taking a sip of his own beer and then leaning forward, his arms resting on the table, Walt studied her again and his thoughts wandered. Vic was a great cop, evidenced as much by how well she did her job as by how much the job was a part of her, how much she internalized it. Walt understood this – it was a quality that set her apart from any other deputy he'd hired since becoming Sheriff. He knew it was the same quality Lucian had seen in him, and that scared him a little. He'd borne witness to what it had done to his life with Martha and Cady. He'd been a reluctant party to what it had done to Sean and Vic. Walt and Vic were different, to be sure, but in many ways, they were very much alike.

Settling back into his chair, with one arm resting on his thigh, Walt took another sip of beer, still unsure of what to say next. As he continued to look at her, he realized that the warm feelings they shared had rekindled in him a deep and abiding affection, long since dormant and once buried in grief. All his life, he had trained himself to keep his feelings in check, but his resolve was weakening. He wasn't sure how it had happened, when he started looking forward to seeing her every day, thinking about what she did when she left the station and went home at night. He was sure, however, that his feelings were real. After what seemed like an eternal moment, and exhausted from his toast he settled simply with, "Hey."

Vic looked up from the fire, and, to his relief, smiled at him again but her eyes betrayed the barrage of thoughts tumbling about in her mind. "Hey yourself." She lodged her boot solidly against his once more, as if she needed something to latch on to. She tilted her longneck back for another long draw, emptying the bottle and then setting it on the table.

"You ok?" He asked.

"I … yeah … I mean …" she started, but the words wouldn't come.

He reached across the table and placed his hand gently on her arm. "You can talk to me, you know."

She looked at him and spoke quietly, not wanting her words to sound hurtful but wanting to be honest. She was always honest with Walt. "I always figured I'd be a cop in Philadelphia for my whole life. That was supposed to be my career, my plan, and so much has changed since moving here. It's hard to let go of the way I thought my life was supposed to be."

"Things don't always go the way we plan them. It's a hard truth."

She replied, "I know. It's just that … if we mess this up, whatever this is …" She shook her head and looked away, not comfortable with the vulnerability she exposed when she let herself think about a future with Walt.

He tightened his grip on her arm reassuringly, drawing her gaze back to his. "We won't."

 ** **xxxxx****

Henry made the best cheeseburgers in town, and after enjoying their meals, the shared company, and a few more Raniers, Vic was feeling a little sleepy and pleasantly buzzed. The evening wore on as the weather worsened, and she and Walt found themselves the bar's only customers. Henry sent his staff home, closed up for the night and settled into a chair at Walt and Vic's table with three glasses and a bottle of Snake River Stampede whiskey. He treated Vic to some hilarious tales about the misadventures of his and Walt's youth, and when he'd finished his stories and his drink, he stood up and placed a few quarters on the table meaningfully in front of Walt. "The key is in the usual place, stay as long as you like." Walt and Vic thanked him again, and Henry slipped away with a quiet goodnight.

Vic looked at the quarters, and then at Walt, puzzled, her question unspoken but implied. Walt stood and picked up the quarters with one hand and reached out towards her with the other. Vic smiled as she realized what was happening and allowed him to escort her towards the juke box. "Let's see ..." he tapped his fingers on the glass as Vic, standing behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his back, placing her cheek against his soft, worn denim duty shirt. It may have been the beer, the cold of the night, the quiet of the room, or simple exhaustion, but any hesitation she might have otherwise had about embracing her boss had disappeared.

In an instant, Walt flashed back to the last time he'd been this close to his Deputy in the hospital following their ordeal at Chance Gilbert's compound. She'd held it together for so long, and the raw release of her emotion had nearly overwhelmed him. In the moment he hadn't dared do anything more than hold her for fear he'd be overwhelmed himself. But this moment was different.

One hand still propped on the juke box, he let his other hand wander slowly down the length of her forearm to where her hands were clasped tightly together against his belly, just above his belt buckle. He covered her two small hands with his larger one, another reassuring gesture, turned his head towards the side so she'd hear him, and asked in his deep, quiet voice, "Any requests?" Vic thought for a moment and murmured softly, "No, just you." She felt his heart beat quicken at her words. To keep it light, she added, "And no shitty new country music, just the old stuff. Henry says this jukebox only plays country, so choose wisely." He laughed softly, and so did she, as he dropped the quarters in the slot and made a few selections.

Walt turned slowly into Vic's embrace, allowed his fingers to trace a line along her jaw and gently caress her cheek, and backed her slowly onto the dance floor as the music began. As one of his hands found its familiar way to the small of her back, one of hers found his shoulder and he took her other hand, intertwined their fingers and pulled their joined hands against his chest. Drawing her in close, her head rested comfortably at his shoulder near the crook of his neck. Nothing had ever felt so natural or so good. They got lost in the music, and neither made a move to pull apart even after the last song had finished. Walt placed a gentle kiss on Vic's forehead. She looked up at him and held his gaze for a long moment. He felt her fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his neck as she drew him in, reaching up to frame his face with her other hand.

Their kiss was soft and tentative, both unsure of where or how far to go. Either by instinct or reluctant understanding, their lips parted, but with a quick shift of his head, Walt's breath was warm and close and teased at her ear as he whispered, "Thanks for having dinner with me." She sighed, contentedly, into his chest and lifted her face to meet his gaze. Her lips grazed softly against his once more as she said, "Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

He nodded. She smiled. He said quietly, "I'll take you home."


	3. Chapter 3

**First Date – Chapter 3**

Author's note: I thought about ending the story with chapter 2, because in all likelihood Walt would probably just take Vic home and call it a very nice night. But, this is fiction, so here is the final installment. It's not quite an M rating, but be forewarned if that's not your thing. Thanks for reading and for all the supportive feedback!

* * *

The storm had given way to a cloudless, moonless night and the stars of the Milky Way brightened and blanketed the sky. It was cold, quiet, and still. Vic's boots squeaked in the snow as she made her way towards the Bronco, the lone truck in the lot, and she waited by the passenger door. After locking up the Red Pony and replacing the key in the usual place, Walt made his way to where she was standing and eased in behind her, wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm while he unlocked the door. She turned to look over her shoulder and smiled sideways at him. "I've never admitted this before, but sometimes I'm glad I'm here in fucking Wyoming." In return, he flashed her that rare smile, helped her in, and walked around to the other side of the truck.

Walt paused briefly before opening the driver's side door and took a deep breath. The cold air did nothing to cool the slow burn that had ignited inside him while he'd danced with Vic in his arms. He adjusted his jeans, which had become increasingly constraining, opened the door, and climbed in. Vic met him with an expectant glance but quickly looked away and drew her coat in tighter against the cold. Walt fired up the old engine and turned on the heat. Adjusting the vents to make sure most of the warm air was directed towards Vic, his thoughts flashed to the day in his office when he'd asked her to stay. He had replayed that moment in his mind so many times since. Until tonight, though, he hadn't really acted on his feelings.

He weighed his options as he shifted the truck into drive and headed out of the lot. Pausing to look both ways before entering the roadway, he took a deep breath and asked, "You, uhm, want a cup of tea?" He had made his peace with the tea box, although it would never hold tea bags again. "Coffee or something?"

Vic paused. Fighting a surge of panic, he continued, "I'll make a fire. Keeps the cabin warm on these cold nights. I even have chamomile."

Vic laughed and looked at him. "Chamomile? No you fucking don't."

"I do!"

"Cady must have bought it for you."

"Uh-huh."

"Ok. Tea sounds good." They made the short trip to the cabin with the usual quiet ease of traveling together, although both felt a sense of guarded apprehension. The roads were still familiar but they were definitely traveling a new route. Feeling a little shy when they arrived, Vic stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets of her duty jacket and followed Walt to the door. He helped her leap up on to the porch and she laughed at him. "Walt, you need to build some stairs."

"Yeah, I'll get to it sometime." He opened the door and ushered her in, his hand lingering just a little longer than usual at the small of her back, and closed the door tightly behind them. He hung up his hat and coat and helped her out of hers. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp on a nearby table, and Vic quietly took in her surroundings. "Feel free to take your boots off, make yourself at home. Bathroom's through that door if you want to wash up."

"Thanks." Vic removed her boots and paused at the threshold of his bedroom door, remembering the scene that had unfolded the last time she'd been here. Lizzie's angry pronouncements had been dead on, but at the time neither Vic nor Walt could admit to themselves or one another that she was right. There was also the fact that Vic had seen Walt dripping wet and half naked, as he hadn't quite covered all of himself in his rush from the shower to investigate the commotion unfolding in his living room. It had taken Vic some time and mental training not to summon that particular image every time she looked at him. She headed for the bathroom to wash up and settle her mind.

Walt made quick work of the fire. He took off his boots and padded into the kitchen to put the water on for tea. Fumbling for mugs and trying to remember where he'd stashed the teabags, he didn't hear Vic come back into the room. But suddenly there she was, standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter with a soft and bemused expression on her face. She looked comfortable, like she belonged there. He liked that. After a bit more rummaging he found the tea and set it on the counter.

"I'm honestly impressed that you have something other than coffee and Rainier." She was teasing him now.

"What, a man can't live on coffee and beer?" He laughed and took a step closer to her.

She looked right at him and delivered her reply in a quiet, sexy tone. "Well, most men probably wouldn't last. But you're not most men." The levity of the moment was gone as Walt remembered a similar comment she had made at a time that now seemed so long ago. _You're different because you're a man, Walt._ The words echoed in his mind. So much had happened since then. They were different people at that time and in that place, but in that moment, he'd known what she meant. With his eyes locked to hers, he moved closer and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. She trembled at his touch and drew in a deep breath. Needing something solid to hold on to, he placed his hands on the small counter on either side of her, effectively eliminating what little space remained between them, their bodies pressed together. "Vic ..." he started to speak but was interrupted by the whistling of the tea kettle. Neither moved for a moment and then Walt buried his head against Vic's shoulder and groaned in frustration. She giggled. "Just shut the damned thing off."

He turned back to the stove and fumbled with the burner. She followed him the short distance across the kitchen and for the second time that night embraced him from behind, arms encircling his waist, enjoying how solid he felt. They stood there a moment before he turned and pulled her against him and gently rubbed her back.

"I sometimes think it was selfish of me to ask you to stay. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I thought about leaving, but I like my job, and this place is kinda growing on me. Especially some of the people." She nuzzled his neck. "I guess I think of this as home, now."

His heart was racing again. "I'm kinda old, you know."

"Well, at the moment, your age doesn't seem to be getting in the way of things." She slid her hand along the top of his jeans and gently caressed the now very obvious bulge.

He drew in a sharp breath. "I'm a little out of practice."

She paused and gave him a look. "Surely you remember how." Her hands ranged curiously across his shoulders and his chest and that was about all he could take. In one swift move he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. He set her down at the edge of the bed, cradled her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. There was nothing tentative about their kiss this time. Her hands worked at his belt buckle but he stilled them, despite his aching arousal, and broke his lips from hers just for a brief moment to say, "We've got all night. There's no rush."

Her eyes widened. He grinned and said, "Oh, I remember."

Vic had had her share of partners, but nothing had prepared her for Walt. Slowly and deliberately he untucked and unbuttoned her duty shirt and slipped it off her shoulders. His hands found their way up under her tank top, his fingers ever so lightly caressing her soft skin as his lips explored her neck before he pulled the tank top off, exposing a revealing yet functional black cotton bra. She did, after all, like to be comfortable. Smiling shyly, and not breaking eye contact, he let her unsnap and remove his shirt, exposing the taut muscles of chest, shoulders, and arms. Walt was all man. Appreciatively, she ran her hands along his arms up to his shoulders and down his chest, gently tangling her fingers in his chest hair and studying him. Slightly embarrassed, he said, "I hope it doesn't freak you out."

She stood on her tiptoes and slid up his body to nibble on his ear as she whispered, "Are you kidding? Walt, you are fucking sexy."

His fingers unclasped and removed her bra, and his hands found their way to her breasts. And this time when she began to work on his belt buckle, he let her.

xxxxx

Vic woke slowly to a strange noise she couldn't quite place. It took her a moment to remember where she was and to realize the sound that had woken her was a snore. But it wasn't a loud, deep, throaty snore, it was more of a little gurgle, and a smile crept across her face as she suppressed a quiet giggle. Walt was a tough guy, and after the hours they'd just spent unmaking his bed, she now knew him to be a gentle and thorough lover, but this sad little excuse for a snore was just unbefitting his image. Not wanting to wake him but needing to stretch her muscles, she attempted to roll over but her motions were thwarted when his long, strong arm reached out and pulled her closer. Realizing a struggle would be useless, and not really wanting to anyways, she stretched out against him, enjoying the sensation of her naked body against his.

Eyes still closed and his fingers gently stroking and exploring the contour of her hip, he asked in a sleepy voice, "Something funny?"

Deflecting, she asked, "What time is it?"

He opened his eyes enough to see that it was still dark out and closed them again with a wide yawn. "Dunno. Looks to be about oh dark thirty."

"Did you know that you snore?"

He smiled. "Uh huh. That bother you?"

"Nope, and I hope to hear more of it."

With a quick shift of his body, he rolled on top of her and met her gaze directly with a serious expression. His eyes shone with such a depth of longing and contentment that she held her breath until his features softened, and before he kissed her again his lips formed one simple word, "Good."


End file.
